The Wonder Island Boys: Exploring the Island
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Roger Thompson Finlay >> The Wonder Island Boys: Exploring the Island
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"Give it some honey," said the Professor, laughing.
"What are the things good for, anyway?" asked Harry.
[Illustration: _Fig 1. THE ORANG-OUTAN_]
"Of course, you are not compelled to keep it, but while you have it feed
and treat it well."
"What does it eat?"
"Principally nuts and fruit, as well as vegetables. If properly prepared
they will eat almost everything man eats, except meats."
At first, as a matter of curiosity, they restrained him, and as it was
near camping time for the night, the Professor suggested that it would
be well to make camp close to the tree which had harbored the orang
family.
After a good supper the Baby nestled up in the mattress, and was sound
asleep in fifteen minutes. When the boys arranged the mattresses for the
night, Baby did not seem at all disturbed, and he slept peacefully until
morning.
After breakfast no effort was made to deprive the Baby of its liberty,
but no attempt was made on his part to leave the wagon. He relished the
honey and the other delicacies, all of which were undoubtedly, a
surprise to him.
The parent orangs were in sight on the trees beyond, but made no
demonstrations, although they saw the young one crawling and swinging on
and around the wagon.
You may be sure that the petting Baby got was enough to spoil any
infant. Probably, the parents saw the affection lavished on it, or knew
that it was not curtailed of its liberty.
When they again set out on the march Baby kept a firm hold on the
mattress, or lazily swung from the cross bars of the wagon top. It was
having the time of its life.
Before noon of the next day, Baby began to act strangely. It would jump
first to one side, then to the other. Harry, who was in the lead, was
called up, and the wagon stopped. The antics of Baby looked like fear.
Before Harry reached the wagon the Professor and George heard a shot,
and the next moment something struck the canvas top and rolled to the
ground. It was up in an instant and sprang to the back of one of the
yaks, before the Professor, who was driving, could realize what was
happening.
George was off the wagon in an instant, and seeing the strange animal on
the back of the yak, drew his gun, and two shots rang out almost at the
same instant.
When Harry turned back, at the call of the Professor, he saw the animal
in the tree, which was then alongside of the wagon, and without waiting
to give a warning, had shot at it, the bullet going through its
forelegs. The result was it fell, striking the wagon, rolled over, and
then sprang to the back of the yak. George's nimbleness in jumping from
the wagon, and running around, enabled him to get in a shot at the same
time the Professor fired. Both of their shots took effect, and it rolled
to the ground.
"What is it?" asked George.
"A wildcat; no wonder the poor Baby was frightened!"
"How did Baby, inside of the wagon, know of the cat?"
"The wildcat is the mortal enemy of the orang-outan. While they fear to
encounter the grown animals, they will attack the young, and the orangs
seem to have the instinct of danger from that source born in them."
The Baby's nerves were unstrung with the din of the guns, and it was an
hour before he could be calmed down. The wildcat was skinned, and it was
days before the orang could be reconciled to the sight of the pelt or
the smell of the animal.
"That is an instinct in certain animals. Nature has provided them with
warnings of danger when their enemies are near."
"What a short tail the cat has," remarked George; "so unlike the tame
cat."
"That, and the head, which is much larger and flatter than the common
cat, as well as the shorter legs, show the distinguishing differences.
Its color, as this one is, uniformly grayish-brown, with stripes running
around the body, is a peculiarity found in the tame species, known as
the 'tiger-cat,' to which they are the most closely allied."
Before nightfall fairly level ground was reached, and this being the
third day, they judged their location was fully sixty miles due west of
the Cataract. Far to the south and southeast the mountains could be
distinctly seen, but the Professor did not think the ranges were very
high.
In the far west the cloudy aspect of the sky prevented them from judging
of the character of the land, but it had the appearance of mountains, as
well.
"How far away are the mountains in the south, do you think?" asked the
Professor.
"I estimate them at about five miles," was George's response.
"What is your idea, Harry?"
"I don't think George is far out of the way."
"Would you be surprised if I should put it at twenty-five miles, or
more?"
"What makes you think so?"
"Appearances are always deceptive when you have nothing intervening to
measure by."
"Is that the reason distances on water are always so deceptive?"
"Yes; have you ever noticed that you can judge distances better if the
intervening landscape is rolling?"
"I think that is true in my case. But there is another thing I have
noticed: When I am standing on the ground and looking up at an object,
it never seems as far as when I am up there looking down: Why is that
so?"
"That is simply the effect of habit, or familiarity. You are accustomed
to look up at objects. The perspective, the altitude, and the appearance
of the heights are natural things to you; but, when you are above,
things below you have an entirely different perspective outline. Their
arrangement is unfamiliar. Probably that is one of the reasons why we
should always look upwardly in life, and not downwardly."
"But," inquired Harry, "is that the reason why some people, when at an
elevation, like a tall building, or on a high precipice, say they feel
like jumping down?"
"That is a species of paralysis, growing out of a sense of insecurity.
It is purely an unnatural sensation, that temporarily disorganizes the
nervous system. I knew a man who, whenever placed in such a position,
could not speak."
They were now on what might be called the table land of the island. A
broad plateau, with frequent groves, and any quantity of young trees
scattered about everywhere, gave a most pleasing view. During the fourth
day of the journey occasional little streams, flowing to the north, were
crossed, and in the forenoon they had to halt for two hours and camp
during the heaviest rainstorm which had fallen since they came to the
island.
On the fifth day a broad river was sighted, flowing to the north, and
before noon the banks were reached. Its width barred their further
progress, unless a raft could be made large enough to take the team
across. This was considered a hazardous task, and the distance from home
was too great to take the risk. It was a larger stream than South River.
CHAPTER II
THE MYSTERIOUS LIGHTS
The usual rate of travel did not average two and a half miles an hour,
and while the first and second days were vigorous ones, they were not so
much disposed to hurry up now, and were taking the trip more leisurely,
thus giving more time to the examination of trees and plants and
flowers, and to investigating the geological formation of the country.
The new river was not, in all probability, more than seventy miles from
the Cataract home.
Beyond, fully a day's march, was the mountain chain--not a high range,
but an elevation which showed a broken skyline. The mountains below the
South River did not now seem so formidable; and directly to the south
they could see no ranges or hill elevations. To the north the sea might
be ten or fifty miles away. The river flowed past them at the rate of
about two miles an hour.
That evening, while sitting on the bank, Harry had an idea. "We made a
mistake in calling our home river the West River. Let us call this the
West, and rename our stream the Cataract River."
"Very well; as George does not object, the Geographical Society will
please take notice, and make the change."
George was of the impression that to settle the question of the
direction they should take in their future explorations, was the most
important thing to determine.
An entire day was spent in and about the vicinity of the river. New
plants and shrubbery of various kinds were constantly sought for and
examined--they fished and hunted; and on the morning of the third day it
was decided to move on.
"We have not yet sighted any original inhabitants, and have found no
signs of people living here; nevertheless, we had traces of a fire
thirty or forty miles east of here. That is what puzzles me."
"I am in favor of following this stream to the north," was Harry's
conclusion, "unless we make a raft and cross the river."
Harry's view finally prevailed, and at noon of that day they camped at
the mouth of a little stream which flowed into the West River. Beyond
was a forest, and on the opposite side of the West River the wood had
all along been dense. At that point the trees did not come down to the
stream, and there was considerable lowland between the river and the
forest.
The Professor and George wandered up the banks of the little stream on a
prospecting tour, as had been their constant practice. When they
returned Harry knew something unusual had occurred from the excited
appearance of George.
"What is it? Any animals?"
"No; only this." And George held up an arrow made of flint. The wooden
portion of the arrow was really of good workmanship, and of hard, stiff
wood.
"Where did you find this?"
"Not more than five hundred feet from here."
Harry looked at the Professor for an explanation, but he was silent. By
common consent they now agreed upon making a more extended investigation
of the vicinity for other traces, if possible. Within an hour Harry
stumbled across the skull of an animal. This was not an unusual sight,
as bones had been found at various places in their travels, but here was
a specimen, lying on a rocky slope, with but little vegetation about it.
[Illustration: _Fig. 2 Types of Arrow-Heads._]
"I should like to know what animal this belonged to?"
The Professor examined the bones critically, without venturing an
opinion. "What is this?" were his first words. Directly behind the ear
cavity was a split or broken cleavage in which they found a round piece
of dark wood.
"Get the bolo, George; we may find something interesting here." With a
few strokes the skull was opened, and embedded within the brain
receptacle was an arrow.
"This animal was, as you see, killed by the inhabitants of the island. I
infer that there are several tribes living here."
The boys looked at each other in astonishment.
"Why do you think so?"
"This arrow is different in shape and in structure from the sample we
found this morning."
The boys now noticed the difference.
"Do different tribes make their implements differently?"
"There is just as much difference among savages in the way they make
their weapons and different implements, as among civilized people. Our
customs differ; our manufactured articles are not the same; and
sometimes the manner of using the tools is unlike; and the divergence is
frequently so wide that it has been difficult in many cases to trace the
causes and explain the reasons. Such an instance may be found in the
Chinese way of holding a saw, with the teeth projecting from the sawyer.
For years all tools and machinery made in England could be instantly
recognized by those versed in manufacturing, on account of the bulk, as
their tools were uniformly made larger and heavy, as compared with the
French and American manufacture."
This conclusion verified the Professor's observation, and you may be
sure that the new discovery gave an air of gravity to the camp which it
did not have before.
"I also wanted to say to-day," was the Professor's last remark that
night, "I am satisfied that there is no intimate intercourse between the
different tribes on the island." The boys looked at each other without
questioning, as usual; but the next morning, as soon as George awoke,
his first observation was: "I can't understand what makes you think that
the natives of the different tribes do not associate with each other."
"Simply for the reason that the styles of the arrows differ so greatly.
With them, as with civilized people, the intermingling of the races
should tend to make their tools and implements alike."
The next night, after the evening meal, they sat in the wagon until
late, discussing their future course. It was now fully nine months since
they left home. The thought that their parents and friends would
consider them lost was the hardest thing to bear. Did the boys ever get
homesick? I need not suggest such an idea to make it more real than it
was to them. With beautiful home surroundings, loving parents and
brothers and sisters, absence, uncertainty; the fear that they would
never again be able to return; danger all about them; the belief that
perils still awaited them, which fears were now, in all probability, to
be realized, all these things did not tend to produce a pleasant
perspective to the mind.
But the Professor was a philosopher. He knew that the human mind craved
activity. If it could not be exercised in a useful direction it would
invariably spend its energies in dangerous channels. He knew this to be
particularly true of young people.
Boys are naturally inquisitive. Their minds are active, like their
bodies. They must have exercise; why not direct it into paths of
usefulness, where their accomplishments could be seen and understood by
the boys themselves.
That thought is the parent of the manual training system, where the
education imparted comes through the joint exercise of brain and muscle.
Boys resent all work which comes to them under the guise of play; and
all play which is labeled "work." But when there is a need for a thing,
and the inquisitive nature of the boy, or his mental side, starts an
inquiry, the manual, or the muscular part of him, is stimulated to the
production of the article needed to fill that want.
The Professor did not force any information upon the boys, as will be
noticed. It was his constant aim to let inquiry and performance come
from them.
Could anything have been more stimulating or encouraging than the
building of the water wheel, the sawmill, or the wagon? See what
enjoyment and profit they derived from it. Thus far they had not given
their time and the great enthusiasm to their various enterprises because
of the money returns. Do you think it would have made their labors
lighter, or the knowledge of their success any sweeter if they had been
paid for their work?
The "Baby" went to sleep early, as was his custom now, and the boys and
the Professor sat up later that night than usual, talking over their
condition, and the situation as it appeared to them. The day had been
exceedingly warm, following the rains.
Harry, who was seated facing the river, suddenly sprang up and excitedly
grasped the Professor's arm, as he pointed across the river: "Look at
that light!"
There, plainly in the distance, was a light, not stationary, but
flickering, and, apparently, moving slightly to and fro.
"It seems as though it is at the edge of the woods," remarked George.
The distance was fully a half mile away.
"It can't be possible that people are over there," said Harry, not so
much in a tone of inquiry as of surprise. "How far do you think it is
from here?"
"Probably one-half mile, or more. We might be able to learn something if
we should fire a gun," was the Professor's reply.
The boys were naturally astonished at the boldness of this remark. Other
lights now appeared, some dim, others brighter. The firing of a gun
seemed to them a most hazardous thing to do, but no doubt the Professor
had a reason for making the suggestion.
It was quite a time before either of the boys responded to this
proposal. In their minds it was a daring enterprise.
"If we should fire a gun the noise would likely startle them, and the
first impulse of the savages would be to extinguish the lights."
George, who had the spirit of adventure more strikingly developed than
Harry, was the first to concur.
"I am going to try it at any rate; we might just as well know what we
have to face now, as later on."
"So you are really going to shoot?" said the Professor.
"If you so urge it, yes."
"Then let me suggest what to do. All savages have a keen sense of
direction. It is one of their chief accomplishments. You and Harry go
back, up the river, a quarter of a mile, or so, and take with you one of
our coverings. Then shoot behind the blanket, so the flash will not be
seen, and I will remain here and watch the effect."
There was no delay in their preparations. Within fifteen minutes the
shot rang out, and almost immediately thereafter every light had
disappeared. The boys were also keen enough to note the extinguished
lights, and returned to the Professor in a hurry.
"The disappearance of the lights is not conclusive evidence that human
beings were there. It might have been a mere coincidence."
"Coincidence! What do you mean by that?"
"Did it not occur to you that the lights might be natural phenomena?"
"Of what?"
"Of phosphorescence."
"Do you mean 'will-o'-the-wisp'?"
"It is sometimes called by that name. It is caused by decaying vegetable
matter, and exhibits itself in the form of gases of phosphorus, which
appears to burn, but does not, like the vapor which is produced by
rubbing certain matches in the dark."
"But how do you account for the disappearance after we shot?"
"I thought they might have disappeared naturally, after you fired, and,
therefore, said it might have been a mere coincidence."
This explanation was not a satisfying one for the boys, and the
Professor did not place much faith in it, for the following reasons:
"I believe it is our duty now to keep watches during the night, which we
can do by turns, so that the sentinel will quietly awaken the next one
in his turn, or both in the event of any unusual happening; and
furthermore, we should make an early start in the morning."
George was the first watch, and, by agreement, Harry was to be the next,
in two hours, for the second period. Before that time passed Baby was
very restless, and George tried to soothe him; but before long he began
crying. A lusty orang, however small, in a still night, makes an awfully
loud noise. The boys never heard anything as loud and as frightful as
that cry appeared to them.
All were awake, of course, but the Baby refused to be quieted for fully
a quarter of an hour.
"Don't you think Baby's cries will direct the savages to us?"
"It is not at all likely. The savages have no doubt heard the cries many
times. It is your imagination which is playing you tricks. Do you
suppose the savages know we are here and have a captive orang?"
During the rest of the night they took sleep in snatches, and morning
was long in coming. Harry had busied himself in getting a hasty
breakfast while the others slept, and Baby was up leaping around
nervously, and springing from branch to branch on the adjacent trees.
Having finished breakfast, the yaks were yoked, and before the sun was
visible they were on their way to the north, as fast as the yaks could
travel.
The whole camp partook of watchfulness now. Every hour and every mile
they scanned the landscape, and, for further precaution, kept away from
close proximity to the river bed. That was not a safe route, as enemies
on the other side of the river would have an unobstructed view, whereas
by traveling inland, but within sight of the river, they could still
view the banks of the stream.
"The scout who leads the way must go a certain distance, then make
observations in all quarters. He must take particular note of objects
which afford places of concealment, and the eye must be alert enough to
observe every undue movement in limb or leaf. Sound is one of the things
he must cultivate. A noise of any kind should be analyzed. A scout once
told me that on one occasion during the war, his life was saved because
he saw one limb of a tree move more than an adjoining one. At another
time, in trailing through a forest, he saw a leaf on the ground,
differing in color from those around it. In walking along he had noticed
that some of the leaves he overturned had the same color, and inferred
that as no wind had been blowing, and all the trees were bare, something
must have turned the leaf, and subsequent events confirmed his
reasonings."
The boys quickly learned their lessons. Each knew that every step
forward meant an entrance to an unknown world.
CHAPTER III
THE BEAR FIGHT
During the day, following the night when the mysterious lights appeared
in the lowland directly to the west and beyond the river, they passed
through several dense forests. George, who was in the lead at this time,
emerged from the thickest wood into a rather open plain. He saw the
river make a long circular sweep, and directly ahead noticed a coast
line of steep hills which marked the shore of the river on the opposite
side.
Harry and the Professor, who were behind with the team, had not yet
reached the clearing. As George passed into the open space he saw an
animal cross his path, and without waiting to inform the others, he
shot. This alarmed Harry, who was out of the wagon without waiting for
any word from the Professor. Immediately after George's shot was heard,
they plainly heard another from the direction of the river ahead of
them. The Professor, too, jumped from the wagon and followed Harry.
George fired a second time, and another shot came from the river. Harry
turned and looked back at the Professor in amazement.
"What can that mean? Did you hear four shots?"
"Yes; run ahead, and find George."
In a brief time both boys returned. "George says he did not hear the
shots from the river."
"They were as plain as your own."
George did not know how to explain it. The Professor moved forward. "Let
us get out into the opening."
As they reached the clearing beyond the wood, and the Professor saw the
steep bluffs beyond, he laughed, and looking at the hills, said:
"That is where the shots came from."
His amusing smile was reassuring, although his words were not.
"That bluff over there is about 2,000 feet from here. We had better find
out what he is doing there."
"Two thousand feet; and somebody there!"
"I did not say somebody was there, but that the noise of the shot came
from that place."
"Do you think it was simply an echo?"
"Undoubtedly; didn't you hear Baby's cries repeated?"
"But how do you know that the hills are 2,000 feet away?"
"Sound travels at the rate of 1,040 feet per second, and I made a mental
calculation that it took four seconds for Baby's cries to come back from
the hills. In that case the sound had to go to the hills and back again,
and it would, therefore, take two seconds to travel one way. Do you
understand?"
"Oh, yes; that is perfectly clear."
The land now became more rolling, and was occasionally broken by
ravines; and sometimes they had difficulty in getting their yaks and
wagon across and over the rough ground.
Fallen trees were numerous; there were little mounds here and there,
made by the remains of uprooted trees, which had long ago decayed, all
of which made their traveling laborious and slow.
Here wild animals became more abundant, and wild game was found on every
side. Several good shots by the boys replenished their larder with bird
meat.
"See that bear!" cried Harry in great excitement.
The boys, as well as the Professor, were out with their guns at once.
"Follow him up quickly now," and the Professor could hardly keep pace
with them. The bear did not seem to be greatly frightened, and when
Harry, who was ahead, stopped and aimed his gun for a shot, he was less
than a hundred feet away. The shots from the two boys came close
together, and bruin stopped in surprise, then, with a snarl, turned
around and in a lumbering, shuffling movement started for the boys.
If either shot had taken effect it was not noticeable. The boys turned
to run, one going to the right and the other to the left. This did not
seem to disconcert him in the least, as he went right on. He had seen
the Professor, who stopped and sprang to one side and bringing up his
gun awaited the charge of the bear.
The boys, encouraged by the tactics of the bear in avoiding them, turned
again, because they now appreciated that the Professor was in the bear's
path.
"Don't shoot, boys; let him come nearer."
When he came within fifteen feet the Professor fired, and the boys also
shot. The bear reared up, gave a terrific growl and again shambled
forward, this time making a beeline for the wagon. This was too much for
the yaks; they turned, almost upsetting the wagon, and Baby commenced to
shriek in the most approved fashion.
[Illustration: _Fig 3. THE BEAR_]
Neither George nor Harry could wait any longer. They followed and rushed
past the Professor, who now had the only loaded gun.
"Take this, Harry; your guns are not loaded."
Harry turned and grasped it and without stopping went in pursuit. Before
he had reached the former location of the wagon the animal ran into a
tree, which threw him back on his haunches, and after several efforts to
raise himself, fell over on his side.
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